Plan A
by Psychee
Summary: Dean has a plan to take care of the Leviathans and it had better work, since there is no Plan B.
1. Chapter 1

Dean has a plan and it had better work, since there is no Plan B. Possible spoilers for all episodes up to 7.05.

Special thanks to my husband for a quick edit. This will likely be 3-4 chapters.

Supernatural is the property of E. Kripke and the CW and likely some other people/entities that are not me.

Chapter 1

_With ignorance and confidence, success is certain.—Mark Twain_

Dean shut his eyes and tilted his head to the side. It was quiet; quiet as the grave. He grimaced at the appropriateness of the analogy. Certain that he was alone and that his brother had accepted his excuse to go out by himself for a while and had not followed him, Dean finished drawing the last sigil on the scuffed wooden floor of the abandoned house where he was carrying out his nights activities.

He had told Sam that he needed some female company. If this spell worked, he would be getting some, though she wasn't actually a woman; or even a human for that matter.

It wasn't like he was lying to his brother, he told himself, as he knelt on the floor, holding the chalk tightly as he consulted his paper and then carefully copied the shapes. He just didn't want to upset him uselessly.

Sam seemed to be doing good, better than good really. He hadn't been zoning out. He wasn't complaining that Lucifer was still his bunk buddy. He was on a health kick: jogging, eating healthy shit and giving him the stink eye whenever he thought Dean was drinking too much (which was pretty much daily). Sam had apparently been purged of his guilt for his part in the apocalypse, too. Spending a century plus in a Cage with a couple of pissed off archangels seems to have bought his brother some personal redemption. Sam had paid for all his sins and then some. Dean was happy for him. He thought his little brother deserved some peace of mind.

Dean only wished that he could get rid of his own guilt. If his plan worked, maybe it would be a start. He shook his head, wondering who was he kidding. He was a good liar; he certainly got enough practice. He regularly lied to everyone he talked with, including Bobby and Sam, but he tried not to lie to himself. No matter what he did or sacrificed, it would never be enough; he could never be enough. There was no atoning for all the hurt he had caused. Sam may have let Luci out of the box but he could never have done that if Dean hadn't broken the first seal, if he hadn't made the deal, if he had been strong enough to let Sam go. Adam, Ellen, Jo, Rufus, one way or another their deaths were on him. Castiel sucking in all those Purgatory souls and coming down with a terminal case of evil; that was on him too. Dean knew if he had just listened harder, tried harder…but he hadn't and because he failed his friend, the Leviathans had been released; so all the people eaten by the Leviathans were dead because of him too.

He distracted himself from his dismal thoughts by mixing the herbs and oils. He used a consecrated blade to cut the back of his arm, holding it over the bowl to baptize the concoction with a sacrifice of his "life" and dying the mixture red. He used an old rag he had brought for the purpose to bind his arm. He lit the mixture and began reciting the spell. He said the words slowly, being extra careful of his pronunciation.

Then he waited.

"You summoned me Dean? I am not amused and I don't have time for this."

"Yeah, well, Tessa having to die to talk to you last time sucked. I thought this might be a little easier," Dean explained with a cocky smile that barely covered what he was really feeling: tired and desperate. "So, I'm sorry about the summoning and just…sorry, but I got no one else I can ask."

The reaper that Dean knew as Tessa crossed her arms and shook her head in weary resignation. "All right, what do you want?"

Dean rubbed his face and sighed, exhaustion laying on him like a heavy blanket. "Bobby came across some lore. It said that God tasked Michael with walling the Leviathans up in purgatory the first time around. Apparently they didn't play well with the new baby."

"And you want to know if this is true?"

"No," Dean shook his head, "Tessa, I want to know if the Cage was built only to hold Lucifer. Sam wasn't meant to be there and was pulled out. Can Michael be pulled out without Lucifer hitching a ride with him?"

The reaper huffed, "That's not something I know anything…"

Dean interrupted her, "Yeah, yeah, you're just a working stiff and don't know anything but would your boss know? I figure he's been around since before dirt, knows God and everything, but he's not real happy with me right now. I can't ask him, not directly, but would you…"

"You may leave now Tessa, I'll deal with Dean." Dean startled at the unexpected voice, his hand automatically going behind his back to grab the gun he always carried. He slowly brought it back to his side and straightened his back. Death had come unexpectedly and without an invitation. Damn.

Dean glanced back at the reaper he had summoned and but she was gone; and he figured he was soon to be a goner.

"So it wasn't enough to summon and bind me, now you summon my reapers? Dean, Dean, do you never learn."

Dean tried to smirk but the expression fell flat when the whites of his eyes and the rapid beat of his heart told the truth about just how afraid the Grim Reaper's presence made him. "Everyone always said that Sam was the smart one. Me, I just keep making one dumb mistake after another, so what can you expect?"

"I expect respect." Death's sharp face tightened making his angular features even more severe as he pounded his walking stick on the ground, the sound reverberating like a death knell. "And I will have it!" He paused, standing regally before relaxing. "Alright now that you know what I want. I believe that you wanted to know about the Cage and Michael? Tell me Dean, what are you planning?"

Dean swallowed and forced himself to relax. It appeared that Death wasn't going to kill him immediately; he took that as a promising sign. He walked to the rickety table that had been left in the abandoned house and poured two fingers of the good stuff into a waiting glass. He took the tumbler and the bottle back to the forth horseman and handed him the glass. Dean took a mouthful directly from the bottle. Death took a small appreciative sip.

"It doesn't matter what I'm planning if Michael can't be sprung from the Cage."

"The Cage was designed only to hold Lucifer. Any others trapped there can be released, called forth if you will, without releasing the Morning Star." Death took another sip. "In theory, in the case of an angel other than Lucifer, if one had the appropriate spell for summoning that specific angel and an appropriate willing vessel for containing their grace, then they could be freed. If that is all you wish to know, I will take my leave. Please do hesitate to call again if you need anything else."

Dean nodded and gulped down another mouthful of the scotch. "So, does that mean you aren't going to kill me right now?"

Death's sardonic smile did not contain any humor and a chill ran down Dean's spine at the sight. The Reaper tilted his glass toward the bottle Dean was clutching. "My boy, you are doing an excellent job of that by yourself."

SPN*****SPN*****SPN

If Sam's yelling and stomping around the rent-by-the-hour check-yourself-for-fleas-when-you-check-out motel room was any indication, he was royally pissed. "Dean, I can't believe you! What the hell were you thinking? No, wait, I know the answer to that last question. YOU WEREN'T!"

"Sammy, listen…" Dean pleaded calmly. He was sitting on the side of his bed, arms dangling between his knees, while Sam paced back and forth.

"No, Dean, just no, and that's final!"

Dean was getting pretty pissed too. Sam could bitch and complain all he liked but unless he had another solution, he could just shut his pie-hole. He rose abruptly to his feet and took a quick step to put himself in his brother's face. "You got another idea? Hell, you got any other plan, even a bad one?" Dean waited several seconds while Sam fumed but didn't respond.

"Yeah, didn't think so. Sam, when you asked me to let you jump into the cage with Luci riding shot-gun in your head, I told you that you were an adult and didn't need my permission. Took me a while to come to that conclusion, and to be truthful I think your decision sucked, but it was your decision, your way to try to set things right.

"Now, I'm not asking you to approve of me doing this, but the fact is we don't have a lot of options here. Leviathans are on our asses, they are killing people. They could be plotting world domination just to make an all-you-can-eat human buffet for all we know. We don't even know how to kill one. I shot one's head off and then dropped a car on it and it still came back. This is our only shot. I'm not asking you to be happy, I'm just asking you to have my back, that's all."

"Dean," Sam began to protest.

"That's all Sam, just have my back."

Sam dropped his head and asked softly, "And who will have my back if you do this. I won't have anyone but the hallucination grinning at me from the corner." Sam stole a glance at the juncture of the far walls. Lucifer uncrossed his arms and gave him a two-finger salute with a big, knowing smile.

Dean reached out and put his hand on Sam's shoulder, giving it a quick squeeze. "You told me you were doing better."

"I am. I know he's not real now. He's not been able to trick me for weeks and sometimes I go days without even seeing him. I still need you to ground me when it gets bad though. Just because it hasn't been bad in a few weeks doesn't mean that it won't get bad again."

"You'll have Bobby to help if I'm not around. Besides, there's a chance that after Michael puts the fish back in their aquarium, he'll go back to Heaven to clean up the mess up there and let me drive again."

"Sure, Dean, but there is also a chance that if he does that, he'll leave you a drooling shell or even just kill you out right. And what about me? I grabbed him and took him down to the Cage. Trust me when I say that I am not his favorite person."

"That's why I don't want you with me, Sammy. Even though the Leviathans burned down Bobby's house, I figure the panic room survived; it was made of iron. We just need to dig it out and angel proof it. You'll be safe there. And if this doesn't work, it won't matter if Michael's got a grudge against you, 'cause neither you nor anyone else will be safe anywhere. This is our best shot. And right now, it's our only shot."

Sam huffed. "Okay, just for the sake of argument, let's say you spring him. Why do you think he'll even help us?"

Dean gave an easy smile. "Because he's a good son, his Father told him to put the Leviathans in Purgatory. Now they're out. He'll feel it's still his responsibility to put them back."

Sam shook his head. "You don't know that."

"That's about the only thing I do know," Dean stated with confidence.

Dean silently begged his brother to support him. If Sam didn't, he would still go through with it but it would be easier saying good-bye if Sam weren't mad at him. He didn't want to leave his brother, maybe…probably…forever, with that hanging between them.

Sam took several deep breaths as the silence was stretched thin. Finally, he nodded. "Okay, but I won't go to the panic room or anywhere else. I stay with you the whole time."

"No, Sam," Dean protested, "Once I'm stuffed full of angel, I won't be able to protect you."

"I'm not asking you to protect me. I'm just asking you not to leave me behind."

"Sammy!"

"I can only have your back if I'm with you. You want me to go along with this insane plan. You want me to have your back. Fine, but I'm staying. That's non-negotionable."

Dean dragged a hand down his face. History had proven that they didn't do well on their own. "Alright."

Sam gave his brother a tight smile. "So, you told Bobby yet?"

SPN*****SPN*****SPN


	2. Chapter 2

Obviously this would not have been the way to kill Leviathan's anyway, but since the last episode with the solution of _got a dirty mouth, clean it up_ this is now officially… not even close.

Plan A

Breaking it to Bobby

To say that Bobby didn't like Dean's plan would be an understatement. Things didn't get bloody but there was screaming and yelling and eventual running; well Dean called it a strategic retreat to let Bobby think things over.

The brothers met their surrogate father at a truck stop somewhere in the northern corner of Wyoming off US 212. "I've decided to become archangel outerwear" didn't seem like a subject that should be discussed in a truck stop diner, so Dean decided to wait until they had checked into an out of the way…way out of the way…motel. Well, actually the motel had closed a few years ago due to poor choice of location and they were squatting for a few nights. It was close to midnight by the time they had the room cleaned out of rats and made mostly habitable.

Sam decided to keep his mouth shut. Dean decided to start slowly and ease into the topic. He asked Bobby what he had done with the Leviathan that they had brought him.

Not a lot, it turned out. Bobby had ended up dropping him in an old, dry well and boarding it up. The Leviathan wasn't talking and a check of his cell phone didn't reveal a whole lot of anything, except that he was over his allowed minutes.

Dean asked if Bobby had found anything else about how to either send the Leviathans back to purgatory or kill them. Bobby told him that he had made his way to the Campbell library that Sam had showed them when they were looking for a way to kill Eve. He was going through the books but hadn't found anything yet. It was taking longer than it might as he couldn't stay in any one place too long for fear of being tracked down by their nemesis.

Dean then very tactfully brought up the lore about Michael. Sam cautiously stepped out of the line of fire. Dean then reported what Death had told him about summoning angels from the Cage and that all they would need is the correct spell and the appropriate, willing vessel.

Bobby replied that Dean was a suicidal idjit that who thought if he could just sacrifice himself for others, he might just feel like he was worth something.

Things went downhill from there.

Dean wisely didn't try to defend his decision when Bobby was so obviously upset; so he just left. He walked out the door and headed to the Impala. He sat in the driver's seat and waited. He wasn't certain who would come out first, Sam or Bobby, but he knew that one or both would come looking for him.

He hated this; hated disappointing and upsetting Bobby. After all the man had done for him and Sam, all he had lost because of them, the way Dean would repay him was by doing something that a couple of years ago he had sworn he wouldn't do.

Ten minutes; that's how long it took before Bobby came out and situated himself in the shotgun seat, slamming the door with a little too much force.

Dean glanced over. "Sam coming out to back you up?"

"Nope, just me. I got pretty hot in there. Never really listened after I heard you were looking to release Michael and say yes." Bobby took his cap off and ran a hand over his head before putting it back on and re-adjusting it. "Tell me again why you have to do this thing when a couple of years ago you swore you'd never agree to become a vessel."

Dean grabbed the steering wheel and stared at his hands. His knuckles looked white in the darkness. He was glad that Bobby couldn't see him clearly in the near lightless interior of the car. He dropped his head. "I almost did, then."

"But you didn't. So why now?"

"It's different now. Then, one of the first things Michael would have done was destroyed half the world in a grudge match with his brother, who probably would have been wearing my brother. Now, he can maybe save the world before it's destroyed by monsters that we have no idea how to fight."

"Possibly," Bobby slowly admitted, "and maybe he'll just smite us all and go home to clean up Heaven's messes.

"I figure you know that's what could happen, so, what's the other reason you're set on this idiocy? Sam might have bought that you're going with Plan A because there ain't no Plan B, but I don't think you're stupid enough to hang something that heavy from just one nail."

Dean tried a cocky grin, even though he knew Bobby couldn't see him. The lights in the parking lot had long since been shut off, nothing but faint starlight and a waning moon were illuminating the interior of the Impala. "Why does everyone think I'm smarter than I am; well, everyone but Sam. Besides, do I need another reason other than we haven't found anything else that might kill these things?"

"Don't con a conman. I'm waiting."

Dean did have more than one reason to attempt to pull Michael from the cage. Dean hoped that if Castiel was still around somewhere, if even a little bit of his grace survived, Michael might be able to save him. This hope, however, he was keeping to himself. He would tell Bobby the truth, just not all of it.

Dean looked back at the room where Sam was waiting. "I figure if Michael shows up, he might still be wearing Adam and then might consider trading up. Adam doesn't deserve to be in Hell just because Dad couldn't keep…just because he had the misfortune of having Winchester blood. Since getting Sam's soul back, I've pretty much quit looking for a way to free him.

"It's my fault that he's there anyway, so I owe him. "

"And how do you figure it's your fault?" Bobby demanded. "You didn't pull him outta Heaven and you didn't force him to say yes."

"He only had to pinch hit because I wouldn't step up to the plate." Dean dropped his head and sighed deeply with shame. He'd never admitted to anyone that he had abandoned his half-brother to the Cage. "And I had a chance to get him out and I didn't take it."

"What are you talking about? Crowley come to you trying to make a deal?" Bobby spat, anger at the self-proclaimed King of Hell bleeding into his tone.

"No. When I asked Death to get my brother's soul out of the Cage, he gave me a choice of pulling out Sam or Adam. I chose Sam."

"Of course you did, Sam's body was walking around without any conscience or moral code. If he didn't get his soul back…well, let's just say that with what he knows, it wouldn't been safe to have him up and wondering around.

"You gonna tell Sam about also doing this to try to save Adam?" Abruptly something else occurred to the elder hunter. "Sam don't know that you could have had Adam's soul pulled out, does he?"

"Hell no! And you won't tell him either. If he knew I chose to get him out over Adam, he would find a way to blame himself. He's doing good right now, I don't want to screw that up."

"No, you just want to try to save the world and save your brothers by sacrificing yourself. Gonna be a big, damn hero, again." Bobby shook his head.

"I'm not trying to do anything but set things right!" Dean protested. "Because of me those monsters are loose! Because of me Adam is stuck in a Cage, in Hell! Because of me you've lost everything! I can't do anything to make it up to you but maybe I can fix …"

"Wait right there!" Bobby yelled. "You think them monsters burning down my house was your fault? You think I blame you for that?"

Dean yelled back. "You not having a home, you losing what little you had; yes, it's my fault. You would have been better off if you'd never met us!"

Bobby reached over and smacked the back of Dean's head. "You moron. I might have lost a house but it's because of you and your brother that I had a home; still have one, even if it's no more than a dilapidated room in a building that was condemned when Hector was still a pup. Home is where your family is, it's not where you happen to be sleeping. If anyone should have known that, I would've thought it would've been you.

"You two have given me more heart ache than you had any right to, but you've also given me a reason to crawl outta my warm bed of self-pity on mornings when the only thing I wanted to do was roll over and never wake up. So don't YOU tell me I would've been better off never having known you!

"How many times I gotta tell you, family don't end with blood?"

Dean turned his head away, acknowledging what Bobby said without agreeing.

The car was silent.

Bobby breathed in deeply to calm himself and sighed, giving in to the inevitable. "So when you wanting to do this?"

"Michael has a feast day or some such on November 8, I figure then."

Bobby nodded absently in the dark. "So I got a couple of days? What if I find another way to get rid of these monsters?"

Dean sighed wearily, "A plan B? Give it your best shot." He reached across the space between them and grabbed Bobby's bicep. He tried hard to keep his voice from breaking, but couldn't keep it from trembling slightly with emotion. He was so damn tired. "I don't want to do this, okay. I don't want to leave Sam when he needs me around to ground him. But I know that you'll be there for him; that you won't let him do anything stupid this time."

Bobby gave a mock growl. "When have I ever been able to keep a Winchester from doing something stupid?"


	3. Chapter 3

Plan A: Summoning an Archangel

Bobby looked for another solution. He spent all of his free time scouring every book, journal and scrap of paper that he could lay his hands on trying to come up with a Plan B.

He found nothing but more apocryphal lore about Michael, the leader of the army of Heaven, slaying one great evil and then shutting the rest away so they could never more harm the descendants of Adam, over whom he had been given guardianship by God.

So on the evening of November 7th he reluctantly agreed to help Dean with his "idiotic plan" and adamantly refused to high tail it to someplace that might be a bit safer if Michael came back with a bad attitude.

Before sunrise on the 8th, all three men were finalizing the preparations to summon an archangel. If Death was correct, and why wouldn't he be Dean reasoned, then all they really needed to do to free Michael from a Cage that was not built to hold him but from which he could not free himself, was to summon him to them and have a willing vessel waiting to receive him.

Dean had memorized a basic spell of summoning. He had used a version of it to invoke spirits and demons and initially to even summon Castiel; before he knew he was an angel. Castiel later taught Dean the words and sigils of an Enochian angel summoning, after they used it to trap Raphael.

He taught Dean the sigil that would banish angels as well. Dean then taught Sam and Bobby. The sigil was also being prepared, just in case.

The spell was refined by Sam, who apparently had summoned an angel at one point in the past but who didn't want to discuss when with Dean.

Bobby supplied a chalice, a mostly clean table cloth that they were going to use as an alter cloth, and the various spices, herbs and powders that would be mixed with holy oil and lit. The fragrance was supposed to be pleasing to celestial creatures, though Bobby thought it was more likely the ritual and not the pungent smell that attracted them. He was also supplying the basement of the small cabin where he had been staying.

The three men painted Enochian sigils on the floor and walls. Dean would be the one to intone the summoning, hoping for that "open line" between an angel and its vessel, even if the vessel had never actually said yes. Though, technically, he had said yes in Van Nuys, just with conditions that hadn't precisely been met.

The almanac said that sunrise on November 8th, in the hollow in South Dakota where Bobby had set up a temporary safe house, would be at 7:16. At precisely fifteen minutes and fifty-nine seconds after seven, Bobby threw a pinch of powder into the chalice and lit the incense. He began a prayer to Saint Michael, patron saint of warriors; the Latin making an odd counter point to the harsh words of Enochian that Dean began reciting. The prayer wasn't an actual part of the ritual. It was being added to the summoning on the theory that more was…well, more.

Sam stationed himself at the banishing sigil, a sharp knife in his hand in case blood was needed to activate the spell if the summoning went pear-shaped. He was caught between watching his brother and a hallucination of Lucifer that was sitting on the steps that lead out of the basement and who seemed to be watching the preparations with a silent but intense interest. At least he hoped it was a hallucination. Since neither Dean nor Bobby were complaining about the Devil supervising the proceedings, he was pretty sure he was imagining him. Pretty sure.

Dean shut his eyes to better remember the words that Castiel had taught him and that he had heard Zachariah utter to call Michael, _"Zodiredo…noco…aberamage…nazodpesade_ …"

The last word of the summoning was uttered and the three men, and one hallucination, waited with building tension. And waited. Several minutes passed with no sign that the call would be answered.

Sam jumped when halLuci-fer (an internal voice that sounded suspiciously like Dean supplied the absurd abbreviation) suddenly stood and cocked his head to the side. He shot Sam a knowing, condescending smile and disappeared.

Just as Dean was gonna call it a failed night and his shoulders began to slump in defeat, all hell seemed to break loose. The room began to shake, mimicking the epicenter of a small, personal earthquake. The walls trembled and the tables quivered like the withers of a nervous horse; the contents of shelves bucked onto the concrete floor that currently offered solid footing similar to shifting sand. The naked light bulbs hanging from the ceiling began to flicker and then exploded in a sharp gunshot of sound.

Sam and Bobby heard a slowly rising, ear-bleeding, cacophony that sounded like a cross between white noise and whale song. Dean heard a loud voice that asked him a question.

"Yes, you son of a bitch, the answer is yes!" Dean shouted into the darkness. A light began to build in the room, growing proportionally with the rising volume of sound. Sam and Bobby crouched on the floor, eyes closed tight and hands covering their ears. The light, sound and pressure built until it was almost unbearable…then abruptly stopped.

The light gone, the darkness pressed so close that it was suffocating. Their ears still recovering from the reverberating clamor, the men couldn't hear anything; not even the ragged sounds of their own breathing.

Sam climbed to his feet, his hand on the wall to steady himself in the disorienting darkness. A small light blazed up, illuminating Bobby's face as he flicked a Bic and used it to scan the broken glass and other objects littering the floor in hopes of finding a candle or a lantern. Sam moved up beside the grizzled older hunter, trying to make his way to where he had last seen his brother.

"Dean?" Sam whispered to the shadows, trying to see his brother.

"Not quite," a soft voice that was his brother's and yet wasn't responded.

"Michael?"

Michael stepped forward into the faint circle of radiance provided by Bobby's lighter. The face was familiar but the posture, cant of the head and glint in the eyes were foreign and unearthly. He raised both hands; studying the long fingers, scarred knuckles and blunt nails with a look of awe. He then reached forward with them and simultaneously touched Sam and Bobby on a shoulder, then blew out the flame.


	4. Chapter 4

Plan A: Talking Philosophy

It was very peaceful. White fluffy clouds dotted a sky that was pure cerulean blue. Dean really had no idea what color cerulean was but that was definitely the color. He couldn't remember when last he valued a sky just for being beautiful. He would look at the sky to see how long 'til sunset or how close the storm was to hitting, but just to look…just to appreciate the moment. Nope.

And the air smelled different here; cleaner and fresher. It was a combination of ozone after a thunderstorm, a crisp snowfall and lake water.

There were sounds too. But not screaming, or the scrape of a shovel biting into hard packed dirt or gunshots; it was the buzzing of dragon flies and the chirping of crickets or little frogs or some shit. It was the quiet sh-sh-sh of water softly lapping around the legs of the pier where he was sitting on a solid wooden deck chair, his fishing rod dangling loosely from relaxed hands.

The line stretched out into the placid lake. The only movement of the water was the little concentric circles pulsing out from the string attached to the little red bobber that floated idly on the surface.

Dean stared out at the expanse of green water and suddenly bolted upright on a now flimsy plastic webbing and aluminum lawn chair. He came to his feet, frantically scanning the lake. He didn't know what he was looking for but it was imperative he find it. His heart rate accelerated. He dropped the rod and his hands started to tremble.

He sat back down on a park bench, realizing he wasn't beside a lake but watching children playing in a park. The laughter of the children was soothing him and calming his racing heart. He felt rather than saw someone sit on the other end of the bench. He smiled broadly without looking over, the feeling of tightness loosening in his chest. This was safe, it was familiar. He turned his head to greet his friend and saw himself.

Then he remembered everything.

"Am I dreaming?" he asked his identical twin.

"That's not really the sky, those aren't really children; none of this is real, so in a manner of speaking this could be considered a dream," his image replied. "Hello Dean. This is the third time we've met face-to-face." Dean watched his own face smile at the joke. "I do hope it will be more civil than the last time."

"Michael?"

The archangel continued as if he hadn't heard the question in that one word. "You were always meant to be my one, true vessel; first born son of a line that stretches back to Cain and Abel. Born of the blood and touched by my grace when you were resurrected from Perdition. It is good to finally be here. It feels," Michael paused and raised his right hand, staring at it while flexing the fingers, "right."

Michael stood and moved closer to Dean, quickly inspecting the bench before resuming his seat. "I know that it's irrelevant, you've already said yes so it doesn't matter, but I find that I don't want you to hate me."

"You're a first class dick," Dean replied drily. "But for the hating part, shouldn't that be the other way around? Shouldn't you be hating me and Sam for sticking you in the cage with Luci?"

The angel shook his head and graced Dean with a smirk. "Don't get me wrong. If I had been freed of the cage immediately after being trapped, well, my wrath would have been terrible to behold.''

Dean took a deep breath and looked back at the running and giggling children. "It worked then."

Michael didn't feel a need to respond to the obvious.

"You know why we freed you? I mean, you're in my head so you know what I know, right?" Dean questioned without meeting the angel's gaze. It just felt weird talking to himself.

"Actually, right now you are in my head," Michael responded with a certain pride of ownership. "But I do know what you mean and the answer is…I do know what you know, I can see it in your memories when I look and I don't care."

Dean rounded on the angel angrily. "How can you not care? These monsters are killing people and we don't know how to stop them. You sanctimonious prick…"

Michael held up his hand to forestall the tirade. "You misunderstand. I don't care why you called me from my brother's cage. I don't care because you had no choice but to make the decision that you did. You did what you were meant to do and I'll do what I was intended to do."

Dean huffed. "So you're still convinced that things are predetermined and it's all just destiny. I suppose you falling into the cage with Luci was destiny too?" he taunted.

Michael looked down at his borrowed hands. "I am many things but not a hypocrite."

Dean looked at him blankly.

"Let me explain and then maybe you can comprehend it. I'll try to use small words." He looked out at the scene of playing children and made a brief gesture toward them. "Did you know that when my Father created humans, He bid us to kneel to them. I was the first to bow; determined to be a good son, to show my humility and obedience.

"I've always tried to do what I thought He would want. But I failed once, was disobedient once and because of that…" he shook his head.

"You see, everything is my fault. The reason we are here now is my fault. When Lucifer began his fall, Father told me that if I couldn't save him, I would have to kill him."

Dean interrupted quietly, remembering his own instructions from his own father and the weight and pain of that order, "He should never have put that on you."

Michael shrugged, "A father should not be forced to destroy his own child. Besides I couldn't do as He commanded. I'm sure you understand when I say that he was my brother and I loved him despite the…mistakes…he was making. Lucifer refused to be saved but instead of killing him and our brothers who followed him, I locked him away in a cage and banished the others from Heaven.

"I never meant for him to be there forever. He was given a key to open the lock; true repentance and obedience to our Father's will. But he didn't ask for forgiveness. He just became angrier. He refused to turn my key but did arrange for another way his prison could be opened…the seals.

"So he sat in his prison, plotting and scheming and making of his surroundings a hell for our brothers who followed him and the humans that he suborned. And from his cage he begat evil and demons and all manner of monsters with a mother of monsters.

"It looked like it would never end," Michael whispered sadly.

"Then my Father left and I think it was because of my failure. I don't think He could stand to see brother against brother and free will subverted…

"The apocalypse was my chance to fix my mistake."

Dean glared at him, remembering the pain and hopelessness of that year and the people that he lost, including his brother. "Well, your plan sucked," he hissed. "It would have destroyed half of the earth! A lot of good people died and millions more would have died. You call that fixing a mistake!"

Michael hissed angrily back, "Those that died would have been granted a place in Heaven and the rest would have lived out their life in a paradise in which there was no more evil. So yes, I thought I was fixing my mistake." He visibly calmed himself down. "I just didn't count on you."

"Well thank God for that," Dean muttered.

"Yes, apparently," Michael nodded. "I thought it was my Father's will to finally kill my brother. But if it had been His true will, I would have succeeded. I wouldn't have been trapped.

"I had the time, no responsibility to govern Heaven in God's absence while I was cut off from the Host after all, so I considered all my actions. I prayed for forgiveness and understanding. Lucifer taunted me, called me foolish, but I had faith that I would be freed and here I am.

"This means I was never meant to succeed with the apocalypse, so I can't be angry about being put in the cage. I believe things had to proceed as they did so that I would be here, today. I knew you would someday be my vessel. I was only mistaken as to the circumstances."

"Yeah, here you are." Dean grimaced, "You're here but where's Adam? You know the human padding you wore to the grudge match."

Michael looked puzzled. "He is in Heaven with his mother. He was told that if he said yes, that would be his reward. He said yes and was rewarded. I did not lie to him. His soul was not in the vessel when I fell. Just like Jimmy's soul wasn't returned to the vessel when Father resurrected Castiel after Raphael destroyed him. And before you ask, I do not know if Castiel is still alive."

Dean was relieved that Adam had never gone to Hell, despite what Death implied when he said he would only bring back the soul of one brother. It was one less stone crushing him.

They sat in silence for several seconds. "So you're really not pissed at me and Sam for sending you to Hell?"

"Let's just say that I'm philosophical about it."

"And you're going to help us with our Leviathan problem?"

"In as much as I am able. My Father told me to remove them from the earth. I doubt His will has changed in that regard."

"What do you mean as much as you are able?" Dean asked suspiciously.

"I mean that I don't know where they are or how to find them. Do you?"

Dean shrugged. "So what now?"

Michael looked at Dean solemnly, "Now I have work to do."


	5. Chapter 5

_If the borax part of the arc is totally ignored, this story would fit neatly after episode 7.08. Also, I am having a very hard time finding Michael's voice. He, Lucifer, Balthazar and Gabriel seemed a lot more "human" in their conversational skills and interactions than did Castiel. _

Plan A: Brothers

Sam hadn't sleep for more than a few minutes at a time for going on two days. He'd barely closed his eyes since awaking in the one bed situated in a small side room of the small cabin that used to belong to Rufus Turner. The cabin where Bobby had been staying since his house went up in smoke. The cabin they hoped was safe because it was far enough away from anything that might be considered civilization that the Leviathans probably wouldn't find them.

The cabin where they had freed Michael from Lucifer's cage by summoning him and providing him with an appropriate vessel: Dean.

Bobby and Sam had obliquely contacted everyone that might have any type of news about anything supernatural that might be going on. Michael had disappeared almost immediately after appropriating Dean's body. Sam didn't know if the archangel was even going to agree to help them with the Leviathans. For all he knew, the angel could have just gone back to Heaven wearing a Dean suit or he might have immediately smote the purgatory creatures and everyone was already safe. Well, as safe as they usually were.

Sam worried that he might never see his brother again; that his brother might have sacrificed himself for nothing. He needed a chance to tell his brother that he was sorry for all the times he let his temper get the better of him. He wanted to apologize, again, for all the times that he left and because he just kept leaving. He wanted to tell Dean that he didn't mean it when he said he didn't need him and wasn't that just dandy because now Dean could focus on taking care of himself. Obviously, focusing on himself just meant that his martyr-bound, jerk of a brother felt free to sacrifice himself, and Sam hadn't stopped him.

After two days of staring at each other and twiddling their thumbs, Bobby needed to get out. He had gone to rendezvous with Sheriff Mills to see if she might have heard of any weird goings on through her connection to law enforcement, leaving Sam alone.

Well, not actually alone.

HalLuci-fer had been a frequent visitor for the last couple of days. Sam hated calling the visual and auditory hallucination of Satan that, but the name was like a song he couldn't get out of his head. As a plus, however, the absurdity of it also made phantasm seem less threatening.

He had been giving Sam a running commentary on the futility of his life ever since Bobby had left.

"You know Sam, you Winchesters let Michael out and now Dean is paying the price. You've lost that stone you were building your sanity on. You've lost your brother. Forever this time.

"And the Leviathans are going to eat your liver for dinner with fava beans and a nice Chianti as soon as they find you, and that won't be too long since you're staying put in the misplaced hope that your alcoholic, angst ridden brother, who has more issues than the New York Times, might come back here.

"Why are you even trying, Sam? Don't you see that it's all futile? You'd be better off if you took that gun you have tucked into the back of those Goodwill jeans and put it to your head."

HalLuci-fer sighed dramatically. Oddly, Sam still imagined him wearing Nick, though Nick was not his last vessel.

"I'm just trying to make this easy on you. I've just got your best interests at heart.

"That stuff that happened in the cage, I was just angry and took it out on you. I'm sorry. I admit I have a bit of a temper and tend to take things too far. You should understand that; it's one of the many things that we have in common.

"Truth is, I miss you Sammy. Don't you miss me a little bit? All that quality time we spent together, didn't that mean anything to you?"

"You're not real!" Sam finally shouted, his ability to ignore his tormentor finally exhausted.

"If I'm not real then why are you talking to me?"

Sam suddenly felt a rapid change in air pressure behind him and the hair on the back of his neck stood at attention as if shocked by static electricity. He threw his right elbow back hard and took a quick step forward, reaching for the gun secreted in the back of his jeans while pivoting around to aim it at his potential attacker.

At least that was his intention. What actually happened was he threw his elbow back to hit whoever was standing behind him and it felt like he rammed his joint into a brick wall. Pain shot through his arm and down his spine and for a crucial second all he could do was gasp.

He grabbed his numb arm and turned slowly.

Dean was standing behind him. Sam smothered his initial joy but not before a murmuring his brother's name. This wasn't his brother; it was an angel wearing his brother. "Michael?"

Other than a slight nod, the body stood as still as a statue. "I am here to do what is required."

"You're going to help us against the Leviathans?"

Michael nodded solemnly.

San exhaled in relief. "And Dean…is he all right? I want to talk to my brother!" Sam demanded.

"Dean is tired. He is finally sleeping. I am giving him good dreams; dreams of fireworks in an open field, the kiss of a dark haired woman and the adoration of the child of his heart, and sitting on his car in the moon light staring at stars and sharing a drink with his brother. He is dreaming of never being alone and I will not wake him," Michael finally responded slowly and quietly, his eyes looking inward, "not even for you."

"However, he would want you to know that he is fine." Michael stated bluntly, suddenly all business again. He turned and scanned the room, ignoring Sam. "Robert Singer is not here."

Sam persisted stepping close to the angel with his fists clenched, "I want to talk to Dean. I want to make sure he's okay."

Michael turned back, a hard glint in his eye and a voice that rumbled like quiet thunder. "Do not push me, Sammy. Your brother loves you but I do not. You should show me respect."

Sam quickly considered his situation and took a few steps back, dropping his eyes. "I'm sorry. I'm just concerned."

"Do not be, unlike you, your brother is safe."

That sounded like a threat to Sam. His first reaction was to verbally attack but he swallowed his anger though it burned on the way down. Getting into a conflict with the archangel would get him nothing but a ticket back to hell. He couldn't risk that; at least not until the Leviathans were vanquished and his brother was back. Until then, he could fake respect. Until then, he could do whatever was needed.

He didn't want to remember that after Castiel started wearing him, Jimmy never really came back.

"If you want revenge for me pulling you down into the cage, please, just wait until the Leviathans aren't a threat anymore and don't…don't do it while wearing my brother," Sam said quietly. "Don't do that to him."

Don't do that to me, he thought.

Michael seemed to pull in on himself and shook his head. "You followed the path destiny set you, in all respects. How could I be angry at you for doing only as you were born to do?

"All of your roads would have led to the same destination. I do not agree with your choice of paths but I do not hold a grudge against you. I was not threatening you.

"You are not safe because my brother is still whispering in your ear and because you are being actively hunted by a power older and more powerful than some lesser angels."

"Don't listen to him Sam." The hallucination was back. "Michael was never one to easily forgive a slight; too rigid and self-righteous. He might be saying he isn't holding a grudge but don't believe him. You turn your back on him and you might find yourself Leviathan lunch."

Michael took several steps and stood belligerently in front of the image. "Don't be so petty, Lucifer. Go back to your cage of rebellion and bitterness and leave your vessel alone. He has escaped you."

"He'll never escape me, brother. You can take the angel from the vessel but you can't take the vessel from the angel. Sam knows this. We will always be joined, even if we aren't together."

Sam was momentarily stunned into silence. Michael was talking to his hallucination. "You can see him!"

Michael gestured vaguely toward the image of Lucifer. "This is just a reflection of a reflection, with no more substance than an especially malicious and dark shadow, but that doesn't make him any less real."

He's real! Sam thought, considering this new revelation. Yeah, real annoying snarked a voice in his head that sounded just like Dean. Sam felt on more solid ground knowing that he wasn't crazy. He wasn't delusional or paranoid. Satan really was out to get him; or at least get him back. The relief was so great, he felt momentarily light headed.

The remaining Winchester didn't know how to deal with psychosis but he could deal with annoying. He'd been doing it for years. "I've listened to you enough! Go away and leave me alone."

"For now, Sammy, for now, but you know I'll be back."

"Don't call him Sammy," Michael said before the vision disappeared, "only his brother can call him that…and me."

Sam stared at the spot where Lucifer was no longer standing for several seconds. He turned to Michael with a smile of gratitude. Sam chose to ignore the archangel assuming he had a right to call him Sammy. It made him feel like Dean wasn't a totally silent partner in his vessel deal.

"We should get on with our business. There is much I need to attend to in Heaven. Things have not gone well in my absence."

"And the sooner we take care of the Leviathans, the sooner I can get my brother back," Sam declared.

Michael neither agreed nor disagreed; which Sam quickly noticed with some alarm.

"First, I should tell you," Michael began, "I cannot find the Leader of this tangle of Leviathans or any of them. They are blocked from my sight just as certainly as you are with the Enochian wards engraved upon your living bone."

"But you found me."

"Dean knew you'd still be here. He doesn't know where the Leviathans are, and neither do I.

"Second, there will be no army of angels at my back to defeat the Leviathans this time. The ranks of Heaven are not what they once were and I have no brothers to spare.

"Apparently my army will consist of two hunters, so I will need to be subtle in my strategy rather than direct.

"But if we can find them, you can kill them or send them back to purgatory?" Sam asked. The lore said Michael was the greatest warrior of Heaven. Dean had bet his life on this plan working.

Michael seriously considered the question. "I've been humbled before my Father and no longer pretend that I know His will. I believe that all of this happened so that I would be called from the cage. I believe that means I am to succeed, but I am not omniscient. I cannot look down all the myriad paths and know the future. I exiled the creatures before, but I had a substantial legion at my back. However, I have learned not to underestimate those of the Winchester line.

"Still, we should not plan our victory until after we have found our enemy."

"Well," Sam said thoughtfully, "I think I know someone who might know something. How much do you know about summoning demons?"


	6. Chapter 6

_Note: I apologize if this seems slow going. I realize that I am using this as a bit of catharsis to explain some things that have bugged me for a while._

Plan A: Consorting

It turns out that Archangels know very little about summoning demons but apparently quite a bit about killing them.

"No," Michael's voice was adamant, though his eyes seemed a bit glazed as if whatever he was seeing wasn't in the room with them. "What would your brother say if you said that you should summon Ruby and ask for her help. No, wait, you did exactly that and what was the outcome?"

"That's not fair and it's not the same." Sam was trying very hard to stay reasonable, though he was feeling hurt and beginning to feel angry. He knew what he had done with Ruby was wrong and she had been using him rather than him using her; so why did there appear to be a constant need to keep throwing it in his face. Who knew an angel could push as many of his buttons as his brother and as easily.

"It is exactly the same. Ruby came to you when you were vulnerable and looking for a solution. She offered you one. She cultivated you and got you addicted to power so you could be manipulated. Who were you willing to betray for that power? What was the ultimate outcome?

"Crowley came to Castiel when he was vulnerable and looking for a solution. He offered him one and look what has become of that."

Sam turned his head away. Recognizing the parallel but not wanting to admit to it.

Michael had been the first to bring up Castiel. Maybe he knew…"What happened to him? Castiel I mean. Is he…gone?" Sam asked hesitantly, not certain he was prepared for the answer.

Michael walked to the window and stared out at the naked trees and leaf covered ground. "I don't know what has happened to Castiel. I don't know if his grace was destroyed when the Leviathans were birthed from the body of his vessel."

A brief breeze sighed through the room as Michael bowed his head as if uttering a quick prayer. "If he is gone…" the archangel shrugged slightly, "he was brought back twice before. If he has accomplished his purpose, and if that last purpose was releasing the purgatory beasts so that I could be summoned from the cage, then it's unlikely that he will be brought back a third time.

"However, if a remnant of his grace remains in his vessel and if it can be found, then perhaps…but it's all speculation." Michael looked very thoughtful. "If I had known I would have told your brother. Set his mind to rest."

The angel's eyes glazed over again, as he looked at something that Sam couldn't see. "Don't worry Sammy, it'll be alright," he whispered.

"Dean? Dean is that you?" Sam asked just as quietly.

Michael turned abruptly. "Did you say something to me?"

"Ah, just trying to get your attention. You didn't seem like you were here for a minute."

"I was here. I was just somewhere else as well, thinking about the problem at hand. I remember…Dean remembers…that you have captured a Leviathan. I will question it."

"Bobby stashed it somewhere," Sam said nodding his agreement with the angel's plan. "He should be back pretty soon."

Michael's forehead creased ever so slightly as he concentrated on an errant thought involving capturing one of the Old Ones. Something about that time disturbed him and he just had to reach for it. "Witches! You allowed witches to live, even after they had murdered and would likely continue to kill in the future. You slay the Fallen Azazel, you slip the grip of Lucifer and stop the apocalypse, you destroy the Mother of monsters but you are powerless against witches!" The angel grimaced and said slowly, "I hate witches."

Sam just shrugged. What could he say, they had been out classed.

Michael turned back to the window and stood as still as a statue watching the two lane track that was laughingly called a road.

Sam still had questions that he wanted answered but didn't want to break the silence or disturb the archangel. He was startled when Michael addressed him without ceasing his scrutiny of the road.

"Your brother has been a poor steward of my vessel," he said, clearly irritated. "I rebuilt it new for him from his corrupted flesh; no mark or scar from his life before his death. In less than 3 years he has already scarred it, assaulted the liver and developed a persistent ache in one leg from a break that was not allowed the proper time to heal.

"He should have been more careful."

"It's a dangerous gig," Sam replied automatically, having heard the rationale from his brother any number of times, his attention drawn to what the angel said about his brother's resurrection. "I thought Castiel resurrected Dean."

"Castiel is…was a soldier not a healer; certainly you noticed how rarely he would restore health when Dean or you were injured. He didn't have the power to resurrect a body that was far gone into corruption, four months in the grave. He raised Dean's soul from perdition because he was the first of his garrison to reach it in the depths of hell and grasp it tight. I renewed the body to house his soul, just as Dean is now supplying me my vessel to house my grace in. Symmetry."

"I don't think you should think of it as your vessel," Sam strongly asserted. "It's Dean's body and he is going to be back in charge of it as soon as the Leviathans are taken care of."

"I will release it when I have no further need of a vessel," Michael replied ambiguously.

Sam wasn't satisfied with that answer.

An old truck chugged up the rutted, dirt road. Bobby was back.

The seasoned hunter climbed slowly from the rusted Ford pickup. He walked up the short path to the front door of the cabin, his reluctance to enter his temporary shelter dogging his every step.

Bobby opened the door, hating that he would have to tell Sam that he hadn't heard anything new. Things in the supernatural world appeared to be quiet, almost as if run-of-the-mill monsters were laying low so as not to bring attention to themselves.

Entering the small front room, the first thing he saw was Dean standing by the window. The next thing he knew, Dean was standing in front of him and touching his forehead with two fingers and then disappearing like a figment of his imagination.

Then he was headed toward the ground and Sam was diving to catch him before he hit his head.

"Bobby!" Sam shouted as he attempted to catch the other hunter, just barely getting his arms around him to break his fall by going to ground with him.

"I've been angel whammied," the older hunter murmured unsteadily as Sam helped him back to his feet. "It's happened before; can't say I enjoyed it this time any more than last." Once standing upright, he shrugged the help off and adjusted his cap to help settle his nerves. "That was Michael, obviously."

Flashing back to the memories that flooded him right before he headed for the floor, he figured he knew what that angel was after with the two-finger salute. "Hell's bells, if he wanted to know the location of the dry well with the Leviathan, all he needed to do was ask."

"That was more expedient," came Dean's voice from the center of the room, "but futile. The creature is no longer there." Michael stepped toward the other hunters.

"Against my better judgment, it appears that we may need to ask the demon about the creatures," Michael said reluctantly with a frown. Suddenly the familiar face lit up with a holy light and beneficent smile. "Perhaps I will destroy it after I get the information. That would be most satisfactory." However, his expression sobered quickly and the archangel regarded Bobby and Sam seriously. "Perform the summoning. I will return at the appropriate time. There is something else I need to do."

Sam wasn't certain if he imagined a satisfied grin and a muttered, "I hate witches" before Michael disappeared.

Bobby stared at where the angel used to be and shook his head. He opened his mouth as if to say something and then snapped it closed and shrugged. "Well, it looks like we're summoning a demon. Mind telling me why?"

Sam recounted his conversation with Michael to Bobby while they gathered the components of the spell. It didn't take long since they kept everything necessary close at hand—summoning having become an almost common occurrence.

He let his surrogate father know that Michael said Dean was fine and also mentioned his concern that the angel was rather vague about vacating the premises. He even told the older hunter of his suspicion that Dean wasn't as asleep as Michael thought. He didn't tell him about Lucifer being a real rather than imagined presence. He thought Bobby had enough to worry about.

As promised, Michael returned silently as the last word of the summoning was spoken and took up a stance across from Sam and Bobby. Crowley appeared very quickly, almost as if he had been waiting for them to call.

Given the speed of his arrival, Sam thought they had probably gone to a lot of trouble using an actual ritual. Crowley likely would have come as quickly if they had just shouted his name really loud.

The self-styled king of hell and former lord of the crossroads, smiled brightly at Winchester and Singer. Despite his dapper dress and amiable demeanor, he still gave the impression of a snake oil salesman. "Well, well, Sam and Bobby, fancy seeing you here. Oh, wait, you summoned me; to be so desperate you must have a bad case of by-gones and strange bed fellows.

"Finally, decided to get serious about our little purgatory problem and call in the big boys, have we?"

"Yes," Michael said casually as he stepped up behind the demon.

Crowley turned toward the voice, readying a belittling quip to put Dean in his place. He stopped, his eyes going wide and backed up. "Dean, Dean, if I had known you were occupied, I would have picked a better time to stop by." He was preparing to disappear when a firm hand descended on his shoulder, pinning him in place.


	7. Chapter 7

Plan A: Whale Song

Crowley wasn't certain by what magic the angel bound him but he was unable to leave; his power stripped.

Michael glared ferociously at the demon. "You are a swaggering, tinplated, little dictator with delusions of kinghood. You are not even one of the Fallen but a common, ambitious little back stabber and are as dirt beneath my feet. You will answer all of Sam's questions honestly and the only thing you will receive in return is the assurance that if you do not, I will hunt you down and destroy you like the evil son of a bitch that you are. Any questions?"

Crowley shook his head.

"Sam, Bobby, I leave him to you." Michael then disappeared in a quiet flutter of wings.

Crowley adjusted his tie and smoothed the lapels of his Italian silk suit. "Well, Sam, I see you've lost a brother and gained an archangel. I'm sure you'll be absolutely miserable together.

"He didn't seem very friendly, did he? Wonder what got his knickers all in a twist? And the threatening, that's a little over the top don't you think? I wouldn't dream of asking for anything in return for my help in getting rid of the Leviathans. That is why you called me. You need my help with the creatures. Of course, I'll do all I can; they're as much a threat to Hell as they are to you. It will be a case of I'll flay your back, you flay mine."

Sam was surprised by Michael's departure but was careful not to show it. "We need to know where the Leviathans are. That's all."

"I can help with that. I can give you the name of one of the major players now, Dick Roman. It will take me a bit longer to get his current location and the locations of the others. The buggers are multiplying faster than cockroaches and are twice as hard to kill.

"I'm babbling, aren't I? Being surprised by an archangel that's supposed to be lounging with his slightly more reprehensible younger sibling in a cage in the very depths of Hell has the potential to ruin everything I've worked for. Odd, how I hadn't heard a thing about there being a vacancy. Lucifer is still locked up, isn't he? Yes, of course he is; I would have been told otherwise."

Crowley took a deep breath and composed himself with a devilish grin. "It's not even like I've never corrupted an angel before. I've even been on a first name basis with an archangel; Raphael was a bird after my own heart: ambitious, petty and vindictive. But I've heard stories and Michael is a whole different level of dedicated; willing to fall into the cage with his brother rather than let go and leave the job undone.

"Good trick, by the way, freeing the General of Heaven. I'm still babbling aren't I? I think I'll be quiet now."

Crowley, Sam and Bobby stood staring at each other.

"Right, well, I'll be going. Tell Mr. Who-Is-Like-God that I'll be back with the information as soon as I have it and it's vetted. If you don't mind, I'll deal directly with you blokes." Crowley gestured vaguely toward the front window. "He seems the type to smite first and then smite later as well." Crowley disappeared.

Sam walked to the front window and looked out. Michael was standing in front of the house; face lifted toward the heavens, arms extended, palms up as if to receive a blessing. A ray from the setting sun was caressing his face, kissing it with a golden halo. If it were Dean standing like that, communing with nature, Sam would have been laughing his ass off and taking a picture to tease him with later.

Michael didn't appear to be communing with nature; he appeared part of it.

Bobby got tired of watching Sam stand at the window watching Michael stand in the middle of the road. He went to the basement to begin the cleanup of the wreckage brought about by the summoning ritual. That, at least, was something he could do that didn't involve standing around and waiting.

Once he was alone, Sam found he wasn't ALONE. "Michael looks very comfortable in your brother's skin, Sammy," Lucifer said casually, standing beside Sam at the window to watch the archangel. "It's a good fit; he looks very comfy, if you ask me."

"I didn't ask you," Sam replied with clear irritation. "Why are you even here? I thought I told you to go away and leave me alone."

"Well, Sam, point one is that I will never, ever leave you alone so get used to having a me pop around now and then for a chat. Point two, I am here, now, because I want to help you."

Sam turned to face Lucifer, eyes wide with astonishment. "You want to help me? If you really wanted to do something for me, you could go away and not bother me ever again. Besides, I don't need your help."

Lucifer shrugged nonchalantly, "Maybe not right now, but when Michael decides Dean was just a place holder for him and that there are certain advantages to having a body, you might appreciate what I have to offer."

"What do you mean?" Sam was naturally suspicious of anything the Great Deceiver said, but Lucifer's taunt was mirroring his own fears.

"What I mean is that to my brother's way of thinking, Dean was born for the sole purpose of providing him with a vessel. He has no reason to give back something that he believes is his by right. The only way you are ever going to get your brother back is if you force Michael out. I know how to do that. I can teach you."

"Dean's already said yes. If I force him out, can't Michael just come back and reclaim the vessel?" Sam asked cautiously.

Lucifer smiled as if he had just won a great victory. "I can teach you how to scar the vessel so that Michael wouldn't be able to return.

"And in case you're wondering why I would do this for you, well, let me say that I'm not being altruistic, it really isn't so much about helping you as spiting my brother."

"So, what do you say, Sammy? Want to learn a magic trick?"

When Bobby came back upstairs a few hours later, Sam was still standing by the window. "He still out there?"

Sam nodded. "He's not moved in four hours. It's gotta be below freezing by now and he isn't even wearing a coat." The sun sets early in November in the northwest part of the country and when the night skies are clear, the temperature drops quickly. Frost had already painted the tips of the grass white.

Bobby snorted as he headed to the coffee pot to grab the last cup. "Being cold is probably the least of his worries."

Coming to a decision, Sam hurriedly grabbed his jacket and shrugged it on. "I'm going out." He looked at his brother's duffle for a few seconds before going and pulling out Dean's green jacket.

The night was clear and dark but the sprinkle of stars and the waxing moon provided enough light that Sam had no trouble seeing his way. The air was so cold that his breath left little puffs of vapor that trailed after him while he walked to stand beside Michael. The angel was unmoving, as if a statue; eyes unblinking and abnormally green, face calm, composed…alien. No human could stand so unnaturally still. Sam noticed that there were no warm clouds of breath from the archangel. He watched and there was no rise and fall of his chest. Michael might not need to breath but his brother did! Sam began to panic, his breath coming quicker, forming a small storm around his face.

Michael dropped his arms from their position of benediction. "He's fine, Sam. Don't worry. I told you I wouldn't let anything happen to him. I will treat this body as if it were my own." The angel lowered his face and looked at the younger Winchester. "If we had stayed, we would have killed the demon. That seemed strategically unsound. I trust he was cooperative."

"Yeah, he didn't have the exact location of the head Leviathan but knew where to get it. He said to tell you that he'd be back with updated information as soon as he could."

Michael nodded slightly in acknowledgement.

"What have you been doing out here, Michael?"

The archangel tilted his head and regarded Sam with an unblinking gaze, the posture achingly familiar. "Listening."

Sam slowly turned his head to catch any sound, no matter how slight. The cold, late autumn night was quiet in a way that it never was in the spring and summer. "To what?"

"The earth groans as the plates slowly roll, one over the other. A small child cries with hunger while another laughs with joy. There are whales singing their deep, long songs to each other telling their stories to this year's calves." He looked back up at the night sky. "Each sun is shouting in sibilant streams of charged particles, warning others of the limits of their territory. Angels' choirs are singing praise. All are harmonizing, echoing the glory of our Father and His creations."

Sam looked up at the stars, following Michael's gaze with wonder. "I don't hear anything."

Michael slowly closed his eyes and turned his head back to Sam. When he opened them again, he was wearing an expression that Sam recognized immediately as one he had seem his brother wear so many times over the last few years: weary hopelessness. "Neither do I."

The angel seemed to gather himself and once again was composed and expressionless. "I have failed so many who have looked to me for guidance. Be assured I won't fail in this, Sam. I have made a lot of mistakes but I have learned from them. I can't undo what has been done or change what has happened, but I can make this one thing right and that will have to be a start."

"Once you know the location of the Leviathans, do you have a plan?"

Michael turned his face once more toward the heavens. "Sammy, have you ever wondered what happens to an angel's grace when it is killed?"


	8. Chapter 8

Plan A: Making a Door

"They make a lovely couple, don't they," Crowley's voice came unexpectedly over Bobby's shoulder as he stood at the window watching Sam as he talked to Michael in the frigid early hours after sunset, "Sam and Dean, Lucifer and Michael, Michael and Lucifer's vessel…ah, an infinite, kinky combination of epic bromance."

Robert Singer had nerves of steel and was the go-to-man for arcane knowledge of the hunter community. He did not startle easily. If he jumped a little at the sudden and unexpected presence at his back, it was due to a little muscle spasm resulting from standing in one place too long. "You ever hear of knocking before barging in on someone? Good way to get a face full of rock salt. Come to think of it, it's not too late. It might not kill ya but it would maybe teach you some manners," Bobby growled.

The demon put his hand over his heart and sighed theatrically. "After all we've meant to each other, the intimacies and good times we've shared."

"Good times my snowy, white ass," the hunter replied gruffly, reaching for the shotgun leaning against the wall beside the windowsill.

Crowley grinned lasciviously, "Business before pleasure I always say but if you insist."

Bobby brought the gun up and cocked the hammer back in one continuous motion. "Your moods a might improved over earlier."

Crowley ignored the gun and sauntered to the small kitchen where he opened a cabinet and pulled out a half-empty bottle of whiskey. He found a mostly clean glass and poured himself a shot before turning back to address the hunter. "Why shouldn't it be? I'm in here where it's warm and Michael is out there, where I'm not. And I've got the information that his high-and-mighty wanted, or most of it anyway. My sources couldn't track down all the creatures and at this point I'm not certain how many there might be; but the major player, the big Dick if you will, is currently ensconced in a food processing plant in New Jersey. Considering Leviathan's favorite food, that probably isn't a good thing for you blokes." The demon downed his drink, making a face at the taste of the cheap liquor. He reached into his jacket and brought out a large envelope which he laid on the counter. "Address, pictures, even a blueprint and lay out of the plant, it's all in there.

"Now as I have taken care of my part of this plan, whatever it may be, I think it's time for me to take a little vacation somewhere nice and tropical and far away from archangels and their vessels. I wouldn't be trying to summon me for a bit either as I'll be turning my phone off; otherwise there'd be no rest for the wicked."

Crowley was gone before Bobby could even come up with a retort. He walked over and picked up the sealed envelope, carefully slitting the top with a knife much too large for the purpose.

Sam was glad he had taken the time to get his jacket before coming out to see Michael. The temperature felt like it had dropped several more degrees just in the short time they'd been talking. He pushed his hands in his coat pockets and considered Michael's question. "I guess I never really thought about it, just assumed that after an angel died its grace was just…gone."

Michael's eyes narrowed but that was the only change in his expression. "You believe that Father made humans eternal by giving them a soul but created angels to just go poof?" He shook his head disapprovingly. "The grace of angels…" Michael stopped and turned abruptly toward the cabin. "The demon has returned with the information." He quickly reached toward Sam and in a blink, both were back inside.

The two men and one archangel looked over the information provided. Michael studied the blueprint closely, especially a spot in what appeared to be an underground storage area. He pointed to another section, "You should enter here, avoiding as many of the guards as possible and find a way to get to Dick Roman. He will likely be here in the executive offices. You must get him to contact as many of the Leviathan as possible and call them to this facility. You must then find information as to where the rest are. It is likely the leader of this tangle will have a record of the location of all the others and also how to contact them. He will not want any of his cohorts to eventually challenge his power and the only way to keep them under control is for the others to know that he can get to them any time he wants."

"What if he doesn't have the information with him?" Sam questioned; Winchester luck didn't usually run to things going according to plan.

Michael didn't look up from the blueprints. "You must have faith that he will. If he doesn't, it might take years to track them down and during that time they will continue to eat and breed."

"How are we supposed to get him to call in the posse?" Bobby wondered.

Michael looked at the hunter and considered the question. "You might consider suggesting to him that he could be about to be attacked and should call in reinforcements. The difficulty will be subduing him afterward so you can search for information on the location of all the others while waiting for his reinforcements to arrive. I leave that up to your ingenuity."

"Well the whole subduing might be a problem. We don't even have anything that can hurt him or hold any guards off if we get caught sneaking in," the experienced hunter observed, always practical.

"All living things have been created with a weakness. Like demons and many supernatural creatures, Leviathans have severe reactions to a simple, common salt compound. It is a different salt than what you normally use, but works on the same principal of purity." Michael canted his head and his lips turned up ever so slightly in what appeared to be a private joke, "Or in this case cleanliness, though for them it is not next to Godliness.

"This substance is found in many household cleaning products. Armed with this knowledge, and a very sharp, large blade suitable for beheading as most things do not do well without their heads, I know that you will find a way to make it to Dick Roman's sanctum and find the information. When you have it, let me know."

"You're not going to be with us?" Sam questioned again. He felt uneasy when Michael was out of his sight; his own fears for his brother being compounded by Lucifer's suggestion that Michael may tend toward being possessive.

"I will be busy elsewhere," Michael answered vaguely.

"Doing what!" Sam demanded.

Michael seem to grow in stature. His eyes began to glow faintly as if lit from within by a golden fire; giant shadows appeared from his back and extended to touch both walls of the cabin. "I do not answer to you," he said scornfully, his voice imperious and cold. "I have told you I will banish the Leviathans as I know that it is what my Father would want, since He commanded it of me before. Be content and leave off questioning me!"

Sam met the challenge by standing to his full height and stepping into Michael's personal space, only to be hauled back by Bobby. "Sam!" he said sharply. "Now is not the time to be getting into a pissing contest with an archangel, especially one that seems to be on our side for once." He turned to Michael. "And you, you're no ones' general here so knock off the attitude. Sam and his brother have had a rough couple of years, hell, they've had a rough couple of decades and a lot of that is due to you and your kin. If he's a little antsy about maybe losing his only remaining family, it's expected…so cut him some slack."

Michael stared at Bobby, the fire growing brighter before suddenly disappearing. He slumped and shrugged a shoulder in a gesture typically Dean. "I'm not used to being questioned. I forget that it's what humans do…question. To be an angel is to obey but to be human is to question." He looked at Sam with the warmth of Dean's eyes not the detachment of Michael's. "That must make you pretty damn human Sammy." Michael blinked hard and the humor disappeared. "While you are confronting Dick Roman and getting the information, I will be opening a door to purgatory so that the Leviathans can be sent back through. I will need to guard it until the last second to make certain that nothing unwanted tries to exit. There are Old Ones more dangerous than Leviathans in purgatory and I don't want to send one monster home only to release another."

"What about the eclipse?" Sam asked.

Michael looked at him blankly.

"Well I'm fresh outta virgin blood so you'll have to get your own," Bobby remarked sarcastically.

Michael's unblinking eyes looked at the other hunter curiously. "Why would I need the blood of a virgin?"

"When Crowley opened the door to purgatory; he used the blood of a virgin and of a purgatory creature."

The archangel frowned. "I would expect a demon to use that particular gutter spell. It attracts the worst types of souls and creatures to the opening.

"The rite and sigil that I will use does require blood to activate it, though. I will need the blood of the holy and the damned, the righteous and the profane, and the betrayed and the betrayer." Michael raised his right arm, wrist outward. "I have everything I will need here."


	9. Chapter 9

Plan A: Plan A(ngels)

Michael demanded that Sam and Bobby get a good night's sleep before the attack. He reasoned that the Leviathans had been freed for several weeks so several hours would make no real difference. Sam wanted to argue that they should go immediately but the angel had a singular manner of enforcing his decision and Winchester found himself asleep mid-word. Michael gracefully caught him as he was headed toward the ground and carried him to the bed and tucked him in gently. When the angel then looked at Singer to see if he would go quietly or need angelic encouragement, Bobby held up his hands in surrender and headed toward the couch.

Michael silently stood watch through the night and sought revelation.

Sam was awaked by the heavenly smell of fresh coffee. By the time he had completed his morning bathroom ablutions, a simple breakfast of scrambled eggs and toast was waiting for the hunters. Michael then quietly supervised them as they packed a duffel bag with whatever weapons and supplies they thought they might need. When the men were as ready as they could be, Michael gathered them close and took them to New Jersey.

Although it was a fast and presumably a very safe way to travel, the only thought Sam had was that Dean didn't like flying Angel Airlines.

They landed, or rather just appeared, in a wooded area within sight of the warehouse that Crowley had implicated as being a haven for the Leviathans. "I will leave you here to pursue your part of the plan. When you have brought as many to you as possible and have the location of the others, let me know."

"Do you have Dean's cell phone?" Sam asked, thinking that would be the easiest way to contact the archangel.

Michael stared at him blankly.

"Okay," Sam said slowly casting a glance at Bobby, "how are we supposed to let you know when we're ready?"

"Pray to me," Michael explained as if it were the simplest thing in the world. "When you have the information required, look at it and pray to me." Then he disappeared.

Sam and Bobby shared a look of exasperation and then got on with business.

Michael stood in the center of an empty room in the basement of the warehouse. The doors had been locked so that he would not be disturbed. He stared at the concrete floor as if looking through it. Crouching, he touched the floor with the very tips of the fingers of both hands. Satisfied, he took his blade and cutting his right palm, began to meticulously draw with the blood. As the sigils began to take shape, he began to sing. The tone was sweet, similar to the half-remembered lullabies that a young, grieving Dean used to sing to his baby brother to get him to sleep. The timbre was deep, like the murmured words of seduction Dean had whispered to Lisa as he held her at night. The words were strange and melodic, never meant to be sung by a human tongue. The rhythm was strangely reminiscent of Led Zeppelin's _Stairway to Heaven_.

As Michael sang the ritual, the blood drawn sigils began to glow; becoming backlit and looking like crimson stained glass. Michael drew and sang and soon the room was filled with sanguine light and resonating sound.

In very little time, the hunters had scouted out the immediate area and found the best place for their stake-out. They stood on the flat roof of a building at least a block away and Bobby observed the R. R. Enterprises Distribution Plant with binoculars. The upper floors had windows that offered a clear view of the interior rooms. Trucks pulled in and unloaded unmarked boxes. Trucks pulled out having been loaded with boxes marked as containing perishables. They counted at least a dozen different employees coming and going but mostly coming and staying.

"How we supposed to get in there?" the elder hunter wondered aloud.

Sam had been scanning the surrounding streets and had a sudden inspiration. He tapped Bobby's shoulder and pointed to an Acme Industrial Cleaning truck that was slowly rumbling toward the loading docks. "We'll walk in through the front door."

When the room was covered in bloody sigils and glowing like a sun rise before a storm, Michael looked at it and saw that it was good. He moved back to the center. He removed Dean's plaid, flannel shirt and black t-shirt and instead of dropping it to the ground, it was just gone. He stood chest bare, skin like marble and unblemished except for the tattoo above his heart. From nowhere, his blade was again in his hand. He sliced gently into the flesh of his left palm. He cupped his hands together and the hollow created filled with blood that began to run over the side and though his fingers, dripping to the floor and onto the first sigil. As the first drop splashed on the glowing rune, Michael proclaimed, "I am the door and the way, none may come save they pass through me." He then uttered a name and the chakra points from the base of his spine to the top of his head began to glow and from the chakra point at the crown of Dean's head a golden light began to gather and grow. It broke away and darted like a ball lightening away from Michael.

"Ambriel…Anna welcome back sister and welcome home. Please forgive me. I was short-sighted and single minded and oh, so desperate for it to finally be over. I made mistakes and I wronged you. Believe me when I say that I have learned from my errors and my arrogance. It will be different in Heaven. I will be different. I should never have withdrawn when Father left."

The light darted around the room, only part of its grace visible, the rest extending into other unseen dimensions. It settled at Michael's feet.

Michael smiled with Dean's bright, heart melting smile, one rarely seen in recent years. "Thank you. There is a task that must be done before we can go home. You led a garrison in battle in the past. Will you lead one for me again?"

The light expanded and then contracted like a miniature pulsar; just as bright and just as deadly.

Michael tipped his head in acknowledgment. His blood flowed again and he began to name all of the angels that had died in the battles of the apocalypse and the conflicts of heaven. He called his brothers and sisters one by one from purgatory where their graces were committed after their deaths. As each angel was resurrected, they were welcomed back into the Host and prepared for battle. Soon only five angels remained to be called forth.

It didn't take the experienced hunters long to subdue the driver of the truck and make certain that the cleaning supplies it contained had the necessary borax ingredient. Bobby put on the driver's uniform as it was hopelessly too small for Sam. They filled two ten-gallon spray canisters and walked in the door marked for deliveries. They made it almost all the way to the stairwell before being challenged by two workers. Bobby sprayed them in the face. They screamed as their skin started to dissolve as if doused with acid, confirming that these were Leviathan. Sam efficiently cut off their heads with a machete. It didn't stop the screaming immediately.

Leaving the bodies where they lay, Sam kicked the heads in different directions with the precise aim that made him a soccer star for the three months he attended a middle school that featured a diverse athletics program. Bobby quickly went to the elevator next to the stairs and pressed the up button. He and Sam then began running up the stairs as quickly as carrying a bulky ten gallon canister allowed. They could hear shouts following them up. They made it to the fifth and top floor and headed down the narrow hall to the double doors at the end. Bobby twisted the knob and found the door unlocked. The men looked at each other and at Bobby's nod, he threw back the door and Sam raised the nozzle of the sprayer. They rushed into the room, Sam frantically spraying the two occupants, what appeared to be an Asian woman and a well-dressed man. Bobby shut and locked the door. Quickly spying a heavy table, he began to move it in front of the doors, blocking them.

Sam moved the sprayer back and forth between the two occupants. The woman screamed and brought her hands up to her face as it began to sizzle and dissolve. Sam dropped the canister and beheaded her, quickly kicking the head away from the body. The man's face also began to bubble but instead of screaming, he retreated behind a large expensive desk. He opened a drawer and pulled out a gun. He aimed at Sam's head and the shot would have been true had Bobby not pushed the younger Winchester out of the way.

Sam recovered from being shoved with the quickness and grace of a practiced athlete. He threw the machete with astonishing accuracy and it lodged in the throat of the Leviathan pretending to be a man. This hardly seemed to slow the creature down. He reached up and grabbed the giant knife and began to work it out of the bone and skin. Sam grabbed the canister and began to douse him again, wetting him thoroughly from temple to toe; soaking his tailored suit and drenching his hair. The flesh began to smoke. Sam moved forwarded and grabbed the machete out of the grasping hands and quickly finished severing the head.

Even with it a bloody mess, Sam was easily able to see that the face of the Leviathan was the same face as stared at him from a large portrait on the far wall. "Hey, Bobby," he said while turning, "it looks like this was Dick Roman." Although he now heard the pounding and shouts from the barricaded door, he didn't immediately see the older man. He glanced at the floor. At first he didn't understand what his eyes were telling him. '"Bobby? Bobby!"

Sam didn't recall taking the few steps to where his surrogate father lay crumpled and bleeding on the carpeted floor; the red of his blood being greedily soaked up by the wool. Bobby was bleeding from a wound to the head. However, he had a pulse and was breathing and that was more than enough for now. The shouts outside the door intensified and more voices joined in. Sam reluctantly left his mentor and pulled a heavy lateral file over to join the table.

His and Bobby's time quickly running out, Sam rushed to the executive desk that was in front of the sign that proudly proclaimed that this processing plant was part of the Richard Roman Enterprises. From the other side of the desk he could see a hidden keyboard and monitor. He frantically began to look at and open files before noticing a folder marked simply as Addresses. He tried to open it but it was password protected. Sam looked around the keyboard, turning over items, looking in drawers for a place where Roman may have stashed his list of passwords. With the door beginning to move the furniture piled against it, he tried RRE but the access was denied. He tried Richard Roman Enterprises and Dick and every combination of these he could quickly think of but with the same result; access denied. As a last resort, he began trying combinations of words with Leviathan in them. Leviathan Enterprises opened the folder.

In the folder were hundreds of names, addresses and phone numbers. He recognized some of the names from the nightly news, political figures and business men, but most were names he had never heard of and would have no reason to be in the address file of a major business. Sam knew he had what was needed. The door slowly began to open, pushing the furniture several inches into the room. Hands began to show around the entrance, holding the sides of the door and pushing. One hand began to darken and elongate like a tentacle.

Looking at the list, Sam began to pray.

Michael heard the prayer and with it was given the information on the location of the Leviathans. He sent the information to the resurrected Host, each was to subdue a Leviathan and bring it back to Michael. The purgatory creatures would be sent back to their imprisonment through the same path that the angels had been called. Michael would hold the way against them to keep them from trying to come back and once all had been returned, he would close the passage; Leviathans on one side and angels on the other. Anna and her personal contingent, he sent to Sam.

Having prayed, Sam hurried back to Bobby, ignoring the slowly opening door. Michael would either come through or he wouldn't but there was nothing else that Sam could do but try to tend to the older hunter. Head wounds bleed like a bitch and the red soaking stain on the carpet was so large that Sam didn't know how Bobby could possibly have any blood left. He placed two fingers to Bobby's throat and almost couldn't feel the racing beat.

"He doesn't look too good does he, Sammy," Lucifer gloated, coming to crouch beside his vessel. "On the other hand, he doesn't really look any worse than he normally does and I think that grey pallor is very suitable to his eyes, and red, well red always was my favorite color."

"Go away!" Sam hissed as he grabbed a few books from the top of the desk and elevated Bobby's feet, trying to keep him from going into shock.

"I thought we'd already discussed that Sam. By the way, if you want your brother back, though I really can't imagine why you would, you're going to get a chance very soon. Until then, close your eyes."

"What?"

"Close your eyes!" Lucifer commanded while poking two fingers directly into them, causing Sam to reflexively jerk his head back and shut his eyes. In that instant the world bled white through his eyelids and Sam turned his face into his arm while laying over Bobby's head, shielding him from the brightness.

In an instant it was over. Sam knew it was safe when he could no longer hear the shouts and voices of the Leviathans at the door. Opening his eyes, he saw that Lucifer was gone but Anna was there. She looked as she did when he first met her: young, innocent, her long red hair falling over her shoulders. Sam pulled back from the angel. She had tried to kill him, no he corrected, she had killed him the last time they had met.

"Sam, I just wanted to apologize for killing you. You understand that I was just trying to avert the End Times. It was nothing against you." She looked sincere. "I can't stay. I'm going home. I just wanted you to know that I am sorry and to tell you how amazingly well you redeemed yourself. If there is anything that I can do…"

"Heal Bobby. If you want to do something for me, for Dean, heal Bobby," Sam said frantically, not understanding how Anna could just ignore the body bleeding out on the floor beside him. He could no longer feel the thready beat of his friend's heart.

Anna smiled gently and looked at Singer as if she were only just now seeing him. She knelt beside him and lay her hand on his chest. Golden light spilled from between her fingers and suddenly Bobby gasped, his eyes flying open. He closed them again and seemed to fall into a deep sleep, unconscious but alive.

Anna stood. "Michael tells me that I should let you know that the Leviathan are gone, taken back to purgatory. We think we found them all but if you find any more, let him know. I'll be going home with Michael now. Sam, it has been a blessing knowing you and Dean."

Then she was gone.

Sam was very afraid that his brother was too.


	10. Chapter 10

Plan A: Saying Good-bye

Sam needed to go and find Michael but couldn't just leave Bobby lying in a pool of his own blood, even if there wasn't anything he could do about the blood already soaked into his clothing and hair. He picked the elder hunter up by his shoulders and pulled him over to the black leather couch sitting beneath the window. It was only then that Sam realized that the bodies of the two Leviathans they had killed had disappeared along with those trying to get into the room and probably all the Leviathan this side of purgatory. He manhandled Bobby onto the couch and murmured a quick, "I'll be back."

At the door Sam paused, uncertain where to go, before running to the fire door and down the stairs. He didn't stop until he was in the basement. The metallic stench of blood hit him as soon as he opened the door. He practically spilled out onto the concrete floor, his feet slipping on thousands of candy wrappers. A quick glance around showed that half way down the far wall was a crumpled door was lying on the floor, apparently blown off of its hinges. He reached into an inner pocket in his jacket and pulled out an angel's blade. He approached the door as quickly as caution would allow.

Glancing in, he saw Michael standing rigidly in the center of the room; eyes closed and sweat on his brow. The floor, walls and even ceiling were covered in blood; too much blood for Dean to survive losing.

"I wouldn't bother him right now if I were you," said a cultured voice with a vaguely foreign accent. "He's not finished closing the Way. Apparently the Leviathan aren't going easily and the depopulation of purgatory of angels has attracted some unwanted attention from other quarters."

Sam half turned toward the voice, trying to hide the blade behind his back. "Balthazar?"

"The one and only, in the flesh so to speak, back from the great beyond," the angel said wittily.

Sam tried to split his attention between Balthazar and Michael.

"I see you came prepared for trouble," the angel said, indicating the blade that Sam was holding.

Sam shrugged and brought the blade into view. "You never know, better to be prepared."

"Yes of course, never know when there might be an angel around that needs threatened," Balthazar agreed. "And since you had no way of knowing about the family reunion, I can only assume you laughably meant to use that on Michael, the general of Heaven's army. I'm certain that he'll be very, very intimidated."

Sam shook his head. "It's not like that. Michael is wearing my brother like a rented tuxedo. I just want to make sure he gives it back when the party's over."

"And you're going to stab him if he doesn't?"

"I'm going to force him out! I shouldn't be telling you this. You'll try to stop me," Sam practically growled, gripping the blade tighter.

"Oh, no, not I. I wouldn't miss you trying to force Michael from his vessel for the world."

They both looked through the door. Michael remained rigid and seemed to be glowing with brilliant, golden light. The sigils seemed to be smoldering as if ready to ignite at any second.

"I can and will if Michael doesn't agree to leave Dean's body," Sam asserted with brash confidence.

Balthazar stifled a laugh. "I don't know where you got your information but it's not quite accurate. Even if you managed to banish an angel and it left its vessel rather than just taking it with, the agreement can't be revoked. Michael could always just come back. One of your religious sects had it almost right. It isn't once in grace always in grace. It's once the grace is in, it can always be in."

"The vessel can be scarred so the angel can't come back," Sam stated.

Balthazar narrowed his eyes. "Where have you been getting your information from Sam? Has Lucy been talking out of school?"

Sam set his jaw stubbornly and refused to be goaded.

"Well there is a way to scar a vessel so it is so impure that it can no longer be used, as you well know. I don't suppose that Lucifer told you that it also makes the body unsuitable to house a soul as well."

Sam looked at the angel sharply. "What?"

Balthazar took half a step forward and leaned against the door frame with his arms crossed. "Any ritual that would scar a vessel to the point that it was unacceptable to house a grace would also scar it so badly that it would be unacceptable to house a soul."

"No!"

"Oh yes, though I'm certain that if you learned your little trick from Lucifer he neglected to mention that little detail," Balthazar sighed. "Sam, why would you think that Michael would want to stay on this little, insignificant planet for one minute longer than necessary, not that it doesn't have its amusements.

"He'll be going back to Heaven to get our affairs in order. He'll have no need for a vessel after he's completed his task. Things have been a bit chaotic since he went into seclusion and then went to hell. His absence created a big power vacuum and as you know, life abhors a vacuum. Unfortunately, none of the other archangels were really qualified to take his place." Balthazar sighed dramatically again. "He also isn't going to allow the rest of us to play with your toys on your playground either; at least not for a while. A shame really, but we all must make concessions if we want to stay on Michael's good side during the reconstruction."

The sigils surrounding Michael finally ignited. The fire suddenly flared up so brightly that the archangel could no longer be seen but died just as quickly. All the blood was burned away and Michael was collapsed in the middle of the room.

"Dean!" Sam cried rushing forward to the downed figure.

Dean was sitting on the dock fishing. It was very peaceful. White fluffy clouds dotted a sky that was pure cerulean blue. The air smelled a combination of ozone after a thunderstorm, a crisp snowfall and lake water. The buzzing of dragon flies and the chirping of crickets or little frogs, he didn't know which, was a perfect counterpoint to Zeppelin's "Ramble On" and "Traveling Riverside Blues."

The fishing line stretched out into the placid lake. The only movement of the water was the little concentric circles pulsing out from the string attached to the little red bobber that floated idly on the surface. A shadow fell on his shoulder. "It's all done?" Dean asked without turning.

Michael sat down beside him on an Adirondack chair that wasn't there a minute ago. "All done. The Leviathan are back in purgatory. The angels are back in heaven."

"All of them?" Dean questioned offhandedly, but his voice was tight and his eyes focused on his line.

"The Leviathan or the angels?" Michael countered.

"Both."

"I believe we were able to send all of the Leviathan back, at least all of which we were made aware. As for the angels, I allowed almost all that wanted to return, and would accept my authority, to do so."

"Almost all?" Dean pretended nonchalance but Michael had come to know his vessel well in the short time they had been together. He ignored the deliberately casual tone in favor of the slight narrowing of the eyes and the white knuckled grip on the fishing rod.

"Uriel's transgressions were too great; murdering his brothers and sisters when they wouldn't join Lucifer's cause. Had he been allowed back, I would have had to exile him to hell and hell has quite enough problems currently with Crowley in charge without adding a new Fallen. Given enough time, he may repent and I'll reconsider."

Michael pretended ignorance of whom Dean was really asking. "Zachariah is petty and vindictive," the angel continued, "but he was only following orders so I allowed him to rejoin the Host. I think I may assign him to work with the cherubs for a while. I think the uniform would do a lot to improve his humility and the irony of having him bringing people together in love matches for the purpose of Heaven is something of which I think even you might approve."

Dean hated Zachariah almost as much as he hated Crowley. He had been hoping he was one of the angels left in purgatory. Still, he grinned despite himself at the thought of Michael's idea of re-education.

"Raphael returned of course," Michael said without pause. "He was harsh but ultimately, as one of the archangels, he was just trying to reassert order and bring about the coming of paradise. It's just that initially it never occurred to any of us that paradise was a bad idea.

"Gabriel was one of the first through, right behind Ambriel, who you knew as Anna. Father's messenger has more than redeemed himself, though I'm not going to allow him to shirk his family obligations any longer. If I have to get back to work, then so does he. In fact, I don't think that any of the family are going to be allowed to travel far from home for a while. We need to get our own house in order before we can help you clean up yours.

"Did I leave anyone out?" Michael asked innocently.

Dean dropped his head and shook it. If Michael wouldn't tell him, he wouldn't ask. It was probably bad news anyway.

"Wait, I did leave someone out," Michael said as if an afterthought.

Dean's head came up and he couldn't keep the hope out of his eyes.

"Balthazar is back as well and currently talking to Sam and convincing him that attempting to throw me out of my vessel and then scar it so that I can never return is a bad idea.

"Little brothers can be little bitches sometimes, Dean. You'd think yours would learn not to trust the untrustworthy," Michael admonished.

Dean looked around his peaceful setting and then back at Michael. "Sam may be a little bitch but he's my little bitch and his heart is usually in the right place even when he's doing something stupid. I'm still here so I guess that Balty talked him out of it."

Michael shrugged. "Just remind Sam he should never listen to Lucifer. My Fallen brother believes that everyone else is as depraved as he. I have every intention of leaving, at least for now. I have too much responsibility in Heaven to remain, as much as I might wish it. I'm going to miss you, Dean; more than I had ever thought possible."

"Yeah, well, I guess part of me will miss you too. You're not half the dick I thought you were going to be. In fact, it's going to be a little lonely in my own head with you gone. You are certainly a good distraction." Dean responded with unusual self-honesty.

"Maybe I'll be back sometime. Relearn why Father loved his youngest creation so dearly."

"I think I would like that, Michael."

The archangel smiled. "Do you think you could persuade Sammy not to attempt to evict me if I do?"

Dean grinned broadly and shrugged. "As much as I'm ever able to persuade him of anything, but I'll try."

Michael nodded. "And there is one more thing."

"What?"

"Hello, Dean," a familiar voice said from behind them.

Dean dropped the pole and jumped to his feet. He turned toward the speaker. "Cas!"

Michael stood. "Castiel was allowed to return. He has made many errors and hurt those whom he should have protected. However, leaving him in purgatory would have served no purpose. He was tainted by a master manipulator and has already repented.

"Dean, I probably won't get a chance to speak with you again before I leave. Therefore I want to say, you are a true servant of Heaven. Thank you." Michael then disappeared.

Castiel looked at the scenery; he looked everywhere but at Dean. The moment stretched out.

"I kept your trench coat," Dean forced out.

That startled Castiel enough that he finally looked at the hunter and former friend.

"After you took the Leviathan into the water and exploded; the only thing I could find was your coat. I kept it."

Castiel looked down, shame coloring every aspect of his features.

Dean sighed and walked up to the angel, putting his hand on Castiel's shoulder. "Look, I've never really had a best friend, never really had many friends at all and never had much family. The only family I have left is Sam and Bobby. Of that small group, just about everyone that has ever meant anything to me has either left me or betrayed me or both. And usually after everything falls apart and turns out badly or bloody, they tell me they thought they were doing it for me.

"Which is just a bunch of bull but still," he shrugged. "Dad, Sam, Bobby, I forgave each one, sometimes more than once.

"You brought me up from Hell. You rebelled against everything you thought was true because I asked you too. You saved my and Sam's skins more times than I can count. You were killed because of me; twice. Maybe I let you down when you asked me to trust you and I couldn't, but you were wrong. I'm sorry you didn't feel like you could come to me when you were in trouble. I'm sorry I wasn't there when you needed me. You made mistakes, I made mistakes. So the way I see it, we're square."

"I don't understand what you mean," Castiel said, tilting his head in confusion. "Do you mean that you forgive me?"

Dean shook his head. "As far as I'm concerned for anything that you think you've done to me, there's nothing to forgive. But you hurt my brother, Cas, and that's not something I forgive easily."

Castiel nodded and dropped his head dejectedly.

"Hey, I said I couldn't forgive it easily, not that I couldn't forgive it."

Castiel looked up hopefully. "I will make it up to Sam and to you. I will redeem myself in your eyes. I'm just not certain how, since Michael has made clear his intent to keep us in Heaven."

"Well," Dean said, "Maybe you could start by just coming and visiting me every once in a while…you know…in my dreams; like you used to when I thought we were friends."

"We are still friends, Dean, and I would like that very much. If nothing else, I can ward your dreams so that you can rest. I can do the same for Sam; he will not be trouble by nightmares."

"Cas that would be great."

Castiel looked around again but with more interest. "I like your mindscape. I find fishing very peaceful."

Dean smiled. "Then pull up a chair and imagine yourself a fishing rod. Michael's apparently still driving my car so we have a little time to sit back, relax and work on forgiveness."

Castiel did as his friend suggested.

Sam crouched beside his brother. He quickly checked him for any injuries, the memory of blood sharp in his mind. Dean was breathing fine, heart was pumping and there were no visible wounds. He appeared fine except for being passed out cold. "Dean, Dean." Sam gently shook his brother's shoulder.

"Sammy?" came a quiet whisper, eye lids fluttering.

Sam helped his brother sit up, partially supporting him. "Yeah, yeah, it's me. Are you all right?"

"Am I bleeding out or have any bones poking through my skin?"

"No," Sam said with evident relief.

"Then I'm fine. Help me up. Where's my shirt?"

Sam supported his brother's elbow, steadying him as he helped him stand.

Dean turned slightly toward Sam. "You're a good brother Sam. Probably better than you realize." He raised a hand to Sam's shoulder as if to support himself. "Go to sleep now. When you wake up, everything will be fine." Michael caught Sam has he slumped forward.

Balthazar stepped into the room. "Anything you'd like me to do?"

Michael nodded. "I'm going to return Sam and Robert Singer to their cabin. Take a message to Gabriel. I would like him to modify law enforcement data bases. I believe that such a task would very much suit his abilities."

"Of course," Balthazar responded. "Anything else?"

"Well there is a matter of certain weapons that are still missing…"

"Yes, well, Michael, I'll get on that immediately."

"See that you do, Balthazar. You may go now.

"And Balthazar"

"Yes, Michael."

"Thank you."

Sam was awaked by the heavenly smell of fresh coffee and the sound of Dean and Bobby bickering in the kitchen over the relative merits of bacon and biscuits versus sausage and biscuits. He pulled himself out of bed. Hit by a sudden realization that he felt more rested than he had in ages, Sam stretched and ambled into the small cooking area.

"Hey Sleeping Beauty, you're finally awake," Dean greeted, sitting a cup of black coffee in front of him.

"Dean?"

"The one and only, little brother." Dean smirked and took a gulp of his own coffee. "Michael's gone but he said to tell you you're a little bitch and Lucifer is a lying dick. Next time don't believe him."

"Next time?"

"Do you think you've heard that last from that bastard, Sam?"

Sam shook his head. "What about Michael, Dean. Think we've heard the last from him?"

A brief look of loss that Sam didn't know how to interpret flashed across his brother's familiar features. "Maybe. No promises," the elder son finally said.

Sam looked at Bobby. "You're feeling okay?"

The elder hunter nodded, "No even a head ache, but you should know it would take more'n a bullet to get through this hard head."

"So" Sam breathed a sigh of relief, "the Leviathan are gone, the angels are back in Heaven and all is right with the world."

"Well, I wouldn't go that far but things are better than they were. In fact Sammy, I think I'll be sleeping better now than I have in a long time."

End

_(Much thanks to all who read, reviewed, alerted and favorited this story. The encouragment meant a lot. Much thanks to my husband who patiently helped with editing. He didn't make fun of me even once.)_


	11. Chapter 11

_The story was done, I thought. Then someone asked how Sam found out that Castiel was out; this is how…_

Plan A: Epilogue

Since the Wall was broken, Sam only went to sleep when exhaustion weighed on him so heavily that his eyelids slipped shut unnoticed. He avoided sleep as long as he was able because when he slept, he dreamed and when he dreamed, he was back in Hell.

Hell was always the same agony, which was always delivered by a different type of pain. This time he was burning from the inside out while his skin was being slowly flayed in inch long strips, by inch long strips from his stomach. The pain was horrific but he couldn't scream because of the blood bubbling up from his lungs. Couldn't scream, couldn't talk, couldn't beg for mercy; not that there ever was any mercy, even when he was able to beg. And he had, many times.

Sam was dreaming and in Hell and then suddenly he wasn't.

He was standing on a small wooden dock that projected out into a placid lake. The sky was a bright cerulean blue with a few high white clouds that added to the peacefulness of the lapis expanse rather than taking away from it. There were no screams of the damned here to serenade him. Rather there was the buzz of dragon flies and the chirping of little frogs that lived in the cattails at the water's edge. When he fell asleep it was during the dawn of winter, crisp and coldly harsh. Here it was the green of life and the golden warmth of early summer. After letting the surreal calmness soak into his weary brain for a few minutes, Sam realized that he recognized this lake.

One summer, when he was about 7 or 8 and Dean was rocking his pre-teen attitude of boredom with all things little brother, Dad had left them with Pastor Jim for several weeks. Pastor Jim lived in Minnesota, a state with the nickname land of a ten thousand lakes, and there was a small lake within walking distance of Jim's home. After they had done their chores and after Jim was assured that they could both swim and that Dean would be extra careful watching after Sam, they were allowed to walk to the lake. They spent hours swimming in the shallows and exploring along the shore. The excitement of each rock, insect and tadpole captured was hoarded by Sam like a secret treasure. One day Dean found an old fishing pole in Jim's garage. After that his brother would sit on the dock for hours just watching the bobber floating idly in the water and smiling at Sam. Dean never caught one fish. It never matter. It was one of the best summers that Sam could remember; him and his brother, playing by the lake and just enjoying each other's company.

After that summer, they never had the chance to visit that lake again.

There was a wooden chair on the dock. Sam sat down. This was a much nicer dream than the one with which the night had started. He hoped he could stay here a while before he started to burn again.

"This is a dream, but it's a good dream," Sam said aloud, mostly just to anchor himself in the moment and to hear himself say something that wasn't a scream of pain.

"This is Dean's favorite dream," Castiel said quietly from behind him.

Sam jumped up and turned. Castiel was standing at the foot of the dock. He was wearing the wrinkled trench coat, his tie was askew and his hair slightly tasseled. "Castiel?" he asked cautiously. This was a dream and Lucifer had been known to torture him while pretending to be a friend…or even family.

"Yes. When Michael released the angels from purgatory, he allowed me to return as well," Castiel looked down in shame, "despite my failings." The angel straightened his shoulders and his spine. "I know you have no reason to forgive me for what I did to you and I do not expect forgiveness. I am truly sorry and ask only for the chance to try to make it up to you. If you will allow me."

Sam took the few steps that brought him to stand before the angel. "You brought down the wall. It could have killed me. It could have left me stuck in Hell in my own head. You did that to try to distract Dean, because you were desperate?"

Castiel stilled his impulse to drop his eyes. "Yes."

"You were convinced by a demon that you had no other choice?"

Castiel nodded, "Yes."

"You were corrupted by power and hurt the ones you cared about the most?"

"I did," the angel respond with the conviction of a sinner giving confession, "and I am sorrier than I can express and accept any penance that you set for me."

Sam put his hands on Castiel's shoulders. "Cas, I can't throw the first stone. You're my friend and I'm just glad that you're back and yourself again." Sam's hands moved from Castiel's shoulder to behind the angel's back and he hugged him.

Castiel stood stiff and awkwardly, finally bringing up one hand to pat Sam on the back while murmuring, "There, there."

Sam back way with a quick laugh. "There, there?"

"Isn't that the appropriate thing to say in such a situation?" Castiel inquired with a slightly quizzical tilt of his head.

"Yeah," Sam smiled brightly, dimples in full force, "that is exactly what you're supposed to say in such a situation. Dean knows you're back?"

"Yes," the angel seemed more at ease now, a slight smile indicating his pleasure. "We have talked a few times. He also graciously extended his forgiveness."

"Then I guess we'll be seeing you around more?"

The slight smile disappeared and the face became expressionless. "I am afraid not. Michael is not allowing any of the angels to physically travel beyond Heaven at this time. I don't know how long the interdiction will last.

"However, I can visit your subconscious mind. I can also guard your dreams. I broke the wall that kept Lucifer at bay. I cannot keep him from attempting to influence your waking mind but I can guard your dreams so that Hell doesn't touch them and guarantee your rest, as I do your brother's."

"That…ah…that would be great, thank you." Sam said almost speechless with gratitude, the tantalizing prospect of having a restful night's sleep seeming a sweet and unexpected blessing.

"It is the least that I can do; a start at redeeming myself…"

"Castiel, it's not…"

"In my eyes," Castiel finished, talking over Sam.

Sam nodded, intimately understanding the need for personal redemption. "So, I guess I'll only be seeing you…"

"In your dreams, yes."

Suddenly Dean appeared sitting on the dock. He looked around and quickly got to his feet. "Sam? What are you doing here?"

Sam looked at Castiel and then back to his brother. "I was just dreaming about how nice it would be to spend a little quiet time, just sitting on a dock and fishing with my brother. You know, like that summer we spent with Pastor Jim. Then I was here."

Dean looked at him suspiciously and then glanced over at Castiel. He frowned as if he were trying to figure out if Sam or the angel were pulling a prank on him. Coming to a decision, he smiled and turned back to the lake. "Well, grab a rod and a seat. Maybe this time, I'll even dream some fish into the lake."

Sam found a simple rod at his feet and moved to cast the line into the lake. Castiel moved up beside the brothers and regard the calm water with an inscrutable expression. The scene was idyllic; Sam was with his brother and a friend he thought lost. He was in neither psychological nor physical pain. He was genuinely happy and a glance at his brother's relaxed and grinning face suggested that Dean was finally at peace. This moment could not be more perfect, his very own Field of Dreams.

Sam was struck by a sudden irrational thought, "Is this Heaven?"

"No," Castiel replied, "I believe it's Minnesota."

And Now It's The End


End file.
